The morning following their arrival at The Lolabama, The Happy Family, looking several shades less happy, began coming from their tents shortly after daylight. By five o'clock they were all up and dressed, since, being accustomed to darkened rooms, they found themselves unable to sleep owing to the glare coming through the white canvas.
Out of consideration for his guests, whom he remembered as late risers, Wallie had set the breakfast hour at eight-thirty. This seemed an eternity to The Happy Family who, already famished, consulted their watches with increasing frequency while they watched the door of the bunk-house like cats at a mouse-hole for the cook to make his appearance.
After a restless night due to strange beds and surroundings, still fatigued with their long journey, their muscles stiff from the "churning" in the stagecoach, they were not better natured for being ferociously hungry.
After wandering around to look listlessly at the ponies, and at the salt-water plunge that was to rejuvenate them, they sat down on the edge of the platforms in front of their tents to endure somehow the three hours which must pass before breakfast.
The dawn was sweet-scented, the song of the meadow-lark celestial, and the colours of the coming day reflected on the snow-covered peaks a sight to be remembered, but the guests had no eyes or ears or nose for any of the charms of the early morning. The rising of the sun was nothing as compared to the rising of the cook who would appease their savage hunger.
Conversation was reduced to monosyllables as, miserable and apathetic, they sat thinking of the food they had sent back to Mr. Cone's kitchen with caustic comments, of the various dishes for which the chef of The Colonial was celebrated.
Mr. Stott thought that his watch must be slow until it was found that every other watch agreed with his exactly. He declared that when the cook did appear he meant to urge him to hurry breakfast.
The cook came out, finally, at seven-thirty, and, after a surprised glance at the row on the platforms, strode into the kitchen where he rattled the range as if it were his purpose to wreck it.
When the smoke rose from the chimney Mr. Stott went to the door to carry out his intention of asking the cook to speed up breakfast.
A large sign greeted him: DUDES KEEP OUT The cook was a gaunt, long-legged person with a saturnine countenance. He wore a seersucker coat with a nickel badge pinned on the lapel of it.
As an opening wedge Mr. Stott smiled engagingly and pointed to it: "For exceptional gallantry, I presume--a war medal?"